that a woman can have no separate existence of her own, and that she
must always be wrapped up in them; and yet the only woman they love
deeply is she whose character seems to raise her above the weakness
and indolence of her sex. You see how all the settlers in this country
dispose of the beauty of their slaves, but they have no love for them,
however beautiful they may be; and if by chance they become genuinely
attached to one of them, their first care is to set her free. Until then
they do not think that they are dealing with a human being. A spirit
of independence, the conception of virtue, a love of duty, all these
privileges of lofty souls are essential, therefore, in the woman who
is to be one's companion through life; and the more your mistress gives
proof of strength and patience, the more you cherish her, in spite of
what you may have to suffer. You must learn, then, to distinguish love
from desire; desire wishes to break through the very impediments by
which it is attracted, and it dies amid the ruins of the virtue it has
vanquished; love wishes to live, and in order to do that, it would fain
see the object of its worship long defended by that wall of adamant
whose strength and splendour mean true worth and true beauty."

In this way would Arthur explain to me the mysterious springs of my
passion, and throw the light of his wisdom upon the stormy abyss of my
soul. Sometimes he used to add:

"If Heaven had granted me the woman I have now and then dreamed of, I
think I should have succeeded in making a noble and generous passion of
my love; but science has asked for too much of my time. I have not had
leisure to look for my ideal; and if perchance it has crossed my path,
I have not been able either to study it or recognise it. You have been
fortunate, Bernard, but then, you do not sound the deeps of natural
history; one man cannot have everything."